The officer who went to Johnny's address knew who he was, and had a daughter in Charlotte's class. He had done painful tasks like this before, and he was dreading what he would see on the boy's mother's face. He knew what a great kid Johnny was. He rang the bell at three A.M., and he had to ring it again. Jim Peterson finally came to the door, in his pajamas, and Alice was standing behind him in an old dressing gown. They looked frightened as soon as they saw a policeman at the door.
“Is something wrong, Officer?” They had never had a problem with Johnny, and it seemed hard to imagine that he had been arrested now. They wondered if he'd been caught speeding, or had been arrested for being drunk. But any of those possibilities seemed impossible to believe.
“I'm afraid so,” he said, addressing them both. “May I come in?” he asked cautiously as they stood aside, and he walked into their living room, and stood there looking grim. “There's been an accident,” he said as Alice caught her breath, and her hand went instinctively to Jim's arm and grabbed at him. “Your son John has been killed. I'm sorry, ma'am … Mr. Peterson … it was a six-vehicle collision, and there were a number of fatalities, I'm just so sorry that one of them was your son.”
“Oh my God …” Alice said, feeling a rush of panic wash over her like a tidal wave, still trying to sort out the words, “oh my God … no … that can't be … are you sure there isn't some mistake?” Jim hadn't said a word so far, but there were tears running down his face.
“Another car hit them and forced them between the divider and a truck. I don't think there was anything your son could have done to avoid the accident. It's a terrible thing when we lose young people like that. I know how you must feel.” Alice wanted to say that there was no way he could know, but she couldn't speak. Her mind was whirling incoherently, and she felt faint, as the officer helped her to a seat. “Would you like a glass of water, ma'am?” She shook her head silently as tears streamed down her face.
“Where is he now?” she finally managed to croak out, thinking of him lying by the side of the road somewhere, or in his car. She wanted to hold him in her arms, or die with him. She couldn't even think.
“They've taken him to the county coroner. You'll have to make arrangements for him, and we'll do anything we can to help.” She nodded again, as Jim Peterson walked into the kitchen on shaky legs and came back with a drink. It looked like water, but it was straight gin, and Alice knew from the look of terror in his eyes what it was. He looked panic-stricken, which was how she felt.
The officer stayed with them for another half hour, and then left them, after telling them again how sorry he was. It was after four in the morning by then, and Alice and Jim sat in their living room, staring at each other, not knowing what to say or do. He took her in his arms finally, and they sat side by side on the couch and sobbed. They sat there that way for hours, and she didn't say anything to him when he went and got another drink. She almost wished she could find solace in that too. There was nothing to comfort her, to soften the blow, and when the sun came up, she felt as though the end of the world had come. It seemed particularly offensive that it was another brilliantly sunny day. She couldn't imagine a world without Johnny in it, a life that didn't include him. Hours before, he had walked out of the house in his tux, with a rose on his lapel, and now he was gone. It was a lie, she told herself, it had to be, a cruel prank someone had played on them, and any minute, he would walk in the door and laugh at them. The officer had told them, when they inquired, that Becky had escaped with only a gash on her cheek, and the other couple in the car had been unhurt. Johnny had taken the full brunt of it, and an evil fate had taken him from them. They were relieved to know that the others were all right, but it seemed so unfair that Johnny had been killed, and through no fault of his own. He hadn't been careless or irresponsible, hadn't been drunk, had done nothing to deserve what had happened to him. He had been the perfect boy, the perfect son, everyone's hero and friend, and now he was gone, at seventeen.
Pam Adams called them at seven o'clock, and they were still sitting in the living room. And by then, Jim had had enough gin to slur his words. Alice Peterson answered the phone, and burst into tears the minute she heard Pam's voice.
“Oh my God, Alice, I'm so sorry,” Pam was crying too. She had brought Becky home from the hospital by then, and mercifully, they had sedated her when a plastic surgeon sewed up her face. He had said there would be no scar, not visibly at least, but she was still crying uncontrollably about their taking Johnny away. She refused to believe that he was dead. “I feel so terrible for all of you … what can I do for you?” She remembered what it had been like for her when Mike had been killed. It was unthinkable, unbearable, a shock and grief too great to bear, and somehow she imagined it had to be even worse for them now, with a son. “Can I come over and help with the kids?”
“I don't know,” Alice said, sounding confused. It was impossible to absorb what had just happened to them, and she still had to tell the other children that Johnny was dead. It was unthinkable. She couldn't even imagine saying the words.
“Let me come over. I can be there in a few minutes,” Pam said insistently. She knew how important it was at a time like this, to be surrounded by friends. And there would be so much to decide and to do. They would have to get him to a funeral home, select a casket and a room, pick out his clothes, tell the kids, write an obituary, arrange for visiting hours at the funeral home, and work out all the details for the funeral at their church, buy a plot in a cemetery and arrange for burial, all the while trying to deal with their own sense of shock and grief. Pam knew better than anyone how unbearable it was, and she wanted to do anything she could to help. And she was worried about Becky too. This was going to be intolerably hard for her. An impossible grief to bear at any age.
Pam appeared at their front door twenty minutes later, and sat with her arms around Alice for a while, while Jim went to dress. Pam put a pot of coffee on, and an hour later, as the two women sat in the kitchen, crying and blowing their noses, Charlotte wandered downstairs in shorts and tank top, with tousled hair.
“Hi, Mom,” she said sleepily. She looked at both women, crying, and holding each other's hands, and it was easy to see that something terrible had happened, as fear crossed Charlotte's face like an express train. “What's wrong?”
Her mother looked at her with agony in her eyes, and without saying a word, she walked across the kitchen and put her arms around her.
“Mom, what is it? What happened?” It was an instant in her life when she knew with absolute certainty that everything she knew and loved and counted on was about to change.
“It's Johnny … he had an accident… he was killed leaving the prom,” her mother said, choking on the words, and Charlotte let out a long, agonized sound, a wail of pain, as she heard the words.
“No … no … Mom … noo … please. … ” They clung to each other and sobbed, as Pam cried quietly, watching them, wanting to be there for them, but not wanting to intrude. And a few minutes later, Jim walked in, he had sobered up again, and all Alice could see was the devastation on his face. They all sat and cried together for a long time, and finally Alice went up to Bobby's room. He was awake and lying in bed, as he did sometimes, but she had a feeling that today he had sensed something was wrong, and he was hiding from it. Even his silence was not enough to shield him from the horror of this.
“I have something very sad to tell you,” his mother said, pulling him into her arms to hold him, as she sat on his bed. “Johnny has gone away … to be in Heaven, with God…. He loved you very much, sweetheart,” she said, sobbing as she held the child, and she could feel him shudder and then stiffen in her arms, but he said not a word. And when she pulled away to look at him, she could see that he was crying, soundlessly, agonized, as broken as the rest of them. The brother he had adored had been taken from them. He understood it perfectly, and he never stopped crying as Alice helped him dress. They went back downstairs hand in hand, and the rest of the day was a blur of pain.